


Fire at my Feet Again

by angel_gidget



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics), Red Robin (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics), Teen Titans - All Media Types
Genre: 90's Music, Alcohol, F/M, Kissing, Making Out, Nostalgia, Post-Canon, Superfam hijinks references, Young Justice references, adulting being terrifying, preboot feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-02 04:44:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11502015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angel_gidget/pseuds/angel_gidget
Summary: Tim and Cassie have been assigned to mentor the upcoming new version of Young Justice. Cassie isn’t drunk enough yet to properly process this turn of events. But if she has her say, with Tim’s help, she soon will be.





	Fire at my Feet Again

**Author's Note:**

> Set a handful of years after Red Robin. Contains miscellaneous comic references including 90’s YJ. Yet also borrows an element or two from the Young Justice cartoon. Bc I do what I want. Also unbeta’d.

The déjà vu was murder.  
   
Cassie wanted to scream at the Justice League that they had  the wrong girl, she wasn't a MENTOR, if anything, she was still a MENTEE, but Tim was standing right next to her, giving his Serious Business head-nod, and Cassie realized that if she did, in fact, start screaming at the JLA, she wouldn't be screaming at strangers.  
  
Because screaming at Aquaman and Superman and Batman was one thing, but the NEW Batman was once Nightwing and she didn't really like the idea of screaming at him. She would also be screaming at Vic, who was her friend. And--sweet Hera--she had FRIENDS in the JLA.  
   
_You're a grown-up now, Cassie._  
   
_You're a MENTOR now, Cassie.  So is Tim, for  that matter._  
   
Hell.  
   
She didn’t want to admit out loud how familiar it was. How, in the last days before she gave up the Titans, she’d had trouble remembering the names of multiple team members; they had come and gone so quickly. So playing chaperone to a bunch of kids she didn’t know was actually way more familiar of a feeling than it ought to have been.  
   
But they weren’t asking her and Tim to be team leaders. They were asking her and Tim to play Red Tornado to their new batch of kids.  
   
Not to lead. Just to make sure they didn’t break anything. To help them with reporters.  To save their asses if things got out of hand. To be around if they wanted advice.  
   
"You start on Monday." Vick told them.  
   
"We start on Monday." Cassie repeated in a daze.  
   
When the rest had left, and it was only her and Tim, the feeling that it was real began to press on her lungs.  
   
"We start on MONDAY. Oh God."  
   
"Cassie? Are you o--Um. I can do it. You don't have to help. I--"  
   
"Do you remember what we were like?! You'll need my help. WE may need help. What if they have their own Kon? What if they have their own BART?"  
   
"Or Slo-bo."  
   
"Oh God."  
   
"It'll be okay. They're just as likely to have their own Secret, somebody they'll band around to protect. Or their own Anita, who can radiate reason. Or their own YOU, somebody smart who can represent the team and keep them in line. Ultimately, they'll be themselves and we can just give them the benefit of the doubt. It'll be okay."  
   
Maybe it was the truth of his words, or the blatant compliment, but Cassie did feel herself begin to calm down. This wasn’t history repeating itself. It was just a few parallels here and there. And the history wasn't all that bad anyway. When did she get so good at only remembering the rough parts?  
   
"I'm good. I swear I am, but I think I need a drink."  
   
Tim's smile was weird. Like he was about to be nostalgic, but it was 50/50 whether it was going to be a good idea or not.  
   
"I know just the place."  
   
She half-expected him to take her to the same zany hole-in-the-wall they went to for his 21st birthday years back, but he surprised her with a Gotham spot she had never seen before. It was kind of on the (conventional) sporty side, and kind of posh. Not really the sort of place she had expect him to go.  
   
"This was my dad's favorite place."  
   
Cassie shook her head to clear it. She could count on her hand the number of times Tim has talked about his dad with her, and four times out of five, he had been in tears while doing it.  
   
"Do you remember Klarion?" Tim asked.  
   
"Bum, bum, bum… The witch boy." She wanted to slap herself for completing the obnoxious little tune on autopilot, but decided not to be too hard on herself. It WAS catchy.  
   
"Well, when he had us stuck in adult bodies, I got the bright idea that I should go check on my dad in his natural environment."  
   
"There is no way that went well."  
   
Tim nodded, "He said I reminded him a bit of his son, and he invited me to sit down and have a beer with him."  
   
Cassie felt a smirk coming on. "And you had never had a beer in your life."  
   
"Correct. I spit it up all over him. And he never learned that the weird guy who chilled with him and wrecked his night was me.”  
   
Cassie chuckled, “So, do you want a beer?”  
  
“Hell, no. Can’t stand the stuff.” It might have been the funky lighting, but as Tim scratched the back of his head, she could swear he was blushing.  
  
“Me neither. Good thing we’re old enough to admit it. Hey bartender!”  
  
Cassie waved at the old man behind the counter. He seemed to be hard of hearing, as he kept cleaning the other end of the bar. She sighed, “Go over the new roster with me.”  
  
“They haven’t got the official—“  
  
“I know you know the biggest candidates for this thing, and I’d like to have a heads up, please and thanks.”  
  
Tim nodded, as he waved his own hand in the old man’s direction to help her out, “Okay. So Lian has already said yes, and if there is a god, she will hopefully end up being team leader…”  
  
Cassie smiled, “Roy Harper’s kid would be good at it. Though Robin will probably fight her for it…”  
  
“Damian will be there under duress. Dick thinks it will be good for him, but the chances are that if he gets out of line…”  
  
“He absolutely won’t listen to you, so I will have to do it. Uhgh.”  
  
Tim gave her a pained laugh, “Thank you in advance?”  
  
Cassie shrugged. She was already beginning to understand why the League was insisting on both of them. There had been some rosters of the Titans that were like that, some deferring only to Robin and some only to Wonder Girl. But by that time, she and Tim had mastered being in-synch to the point that it was a (mostly) doable nightmare.  
  
“Who’s the heaviest hitter we’ll probably have to clean up after?”  
  
Tim steepled his fingers thoughtfully, “That’s a toss-up between Damian’s friend Colin, who is actually an incredibly nice kid, and Jon Kent: our new Superboy-to-be.”  
  
Cassie frowned, “Wait, I thought… what happened to Christopher?”  
  
“You didn’t…?” Tim’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Um, a lot of things happened to Chris. But when he came home from the phantom zone a few months ago, he… well, it wasn’t like when a Robin gets replaced, but he told me it took a lot of adjusting to the fact that an entire time-line crisis had given him a baby brother that was already twelve years old. Last I’ve heard from him, he’s trying to decide on a new code-name and … well, he’s too old for the team.”  
  
She felt her draw drop. “Chris Kent, who was like barely past my hip last I saw him, is TOO OLD for this team? What the hell?!”  
  
“Cassie, the last time you saw him, I was babysitting him because he was ten. And with the phantom zone, well…”  
  
“Well how old is he n—wait. Don’t answer that. Not until I’ve had whiskey, because this  now officially calls for whiskey. BARTENDER. WHISKEY.” The time for being polite and patient had officially passed.  
  
Cassie cradled her head in her hands as she listened to Tim placate the offended bartender, and modify her order. Apparently whiskey wasn’t specific enough. Apparently the brown-eyed little boy she’d last seen wearing little boy shorts and a cartoon character wristwatch was now too freaking old to join Young Justice 2.0.  
  
“So help me, Tim, if you’ve ordered something crazy-expensive, you are buying.”  
  
Tim sighed, and Cassie felt a twinge of guilt. This wasn’t any easier for him. Hell, it might be harder. She knew Damian always made things harder for Tim.  
  
Cassie was both boggled and somewhat grateful that she didn’t have a new Wonder Girl to contend with. Though, now that she thought about it, it did seem almost a shame for one to be missing from the roster… No.  
  
No, she was still too young to be getting mopey over legacies. Not that she hadn’t always dug the idea of an Amazon legacy, but it was supposed to be, like, a general legacy. Not hers. Not yet. And yet…  
  
“I am buying, and you will like it. I promise. It’s only a little expensive, but trust me that you don’t want the default of anything in this place.”  
  
The next thing she knew, she had a strong-smelling double-shot over ice in front of her. It tasted like honey. If honey weren’t made by bees, but instead made by kangaroos kicking her in the face. She decided she liked it.  
  
“Cassie, you’re supposed to sip that.”  
  
She smirked at him, “I’ll sip the next one. Better hope our tab’s on your platinum card.”  
  
He snorted, but didn’t really protest, taking a taste of his own glass.  
  
She observed him.  
  
He closed his eyes and tilted his head as he drank, though not with the speed of someone rushing a shot. It took the shadows off his face for a moment, so she could clearly see the tiredness around his eyes and the faint stubble around his jaw. She faintly recalled that said stubble had come very late in life to him. At the very tail-end of puberty.  
  
She remembered that the first time she had kissed him—mourning Kon’s death in a sea of shattered glass in the Titan’s sub level—the line from his cheek to his adam’s apple had been completely smooth.  
  
_Don’t go there, Cassie._  
  
_That was a long time ago, Cassie._  
  
“So… um. So how’s Kon taking the whole codename thing?”  
  
Tim shrugged, blinking his eyes open as he continued to hold the glass near his lips. “You know about as much as I do. He can’t decide what to pick. That is, he agrees that he’s years overdue to shelve “Superboy”, but replacing it is giving him conniptions.” Tim gestured the bartender back to refill her glass.  
  
“That’s about what I know,” Cassie conceded, “But somehow, you always know a little more. So spill.”  
  
As promised, she sipped the next glass. Sipping was like getting kicked by a baby honey-making kangeroo. It was still pretty damn good. She raised her pinky jokingly, which finally got a smile out of Tim that went up to his eyes as he spoke.  
  
“He’s actually been trying to pick Chris’s brain on the matter. While Kon can hardly think of anything, Chris’s knowledge of Kryptonian language and mythology is giving him a ton of ideas and he just can’t choose.”  
  
“Yeah, well. Kon’s gonna have to get used to choosing names in general. And soon.”  
  
Tim’s puzzled expression stopped her cold.  
  
“Oh Hera. He hasn’t told you yet.”  
  
Tim similarly froze, “He… told me there was something he though he’d tell a lot of people in person. Said it wasn’t bad news. But with his new off-world mission, and how, um, busy we both will be… “  
  
Cassie nodded. If Kon wanted to protest, he could blame her.  
  
“M’gann is pregnant.”  
  
It was always fun: managing to surprise Tim with something he’d clearly had absolutely no clue about beforehand. So fun. So rare. He was even choking a bit on his own drink.  
  
“You’re serious. Kon’s going to be… a dad?”  
  
“Totally.”  
  
“Wow. He’s got to be over the moon. Both in a happy and terrified way. I’ll be an honorary uncle. Heh…”  
  
He went serious then, totally quiet. Sometimes Cassie didn’t dig the reminder that she didn’t really have the full specs of the brain of Timothy Drake. But then again, did anyone?  
  
She held back a tiny flinch as Tim set down his drink and put his hand over hers…  
  
“Are you okay?” he practically whispered.  
  
“Yes…?” she mimicked his low voice.  
  
“Because I know you’ve never liked talking about how things ended, but it’s alright to…”  
  
Gears clicked into place.  
  
“Omigod. Tim. I’m fine. Kon and I are both totally over each other. Promise. Seriously, have you been worrying about that for the past five years?”  
  
His face didn’t turn red, but his ears did.  
  
“Hey, you wouldn’t talk about it, okay? And Kon may be my best friend, but… he’s not my only best friend. You and Bart… you can’t think I love you any less. Do you?”  
  
Holy shit. The L-word. From TIM. In a totally platonic sense, of course.  
  
_As it should be, Cassie._  
  
She knew Tim had been trained to resist truth serum and torture since his Robin days. Apparently, his own taste in alcohol was considerably more effective if it could get talk of actual feelings out of him.  
  
_Focus, Cassie. He asked you a question._  
  
“I know you love me.” She squeaked.  
  
A distinctly fraught look pulled his eyebrows together, and it occurred to Cassie that her assurance didn’t sound very believable.  
  
So she tried again, “I’m serious. I don’t mean that in whatever placating double-meaning Bat-way you guys usually communicate in Gotham. I mean it. I know. You love me. I love you too.”  
  
Those burning ears of his were back, but at least the distressed twist to his forehead had gone away. And that… Cassie knew she’d said enough. Her brain knew, anyway. Her tongue didn’t. “If… if a burning building had you and my mom inside and I only had time to save one, I’d save my mom because she didn’t sign up for the life we did. But I’d be every bit as devastated over losing you as if I had lost her.”  
  
_What the hell, Cassie?! Dark escalation much?_  
  
She spared a glance at her drink as though it had betrayed her. Was she on glass number two or number three?  
  
Tim just snorted with a smirk, “Me too.”  
  
He took another sip, which seemed to oddly sober his face again, “Though… I’d probably be more devastated if it was you. I… I sometimes wondered if there was something wrong with me considering how fast I recovered from my mom’s death. We weren't  close. I… I wanted us to be. So much. But we weren’t.”  
  
Cassie held her breath. She… she had known that Tim’s mom was out of the picture. That when his dad died, that was it. Officially one of Batman’s orphans. But she’d never…  
  
Apparently, it was Tim’s turn to look at his drink as though it were up to shady behavior.  
  
“I’ve never admitted that out loud to anybody. Not in so many words, anyway.”  
  
They both let the silence breathe a moment, before Cassie tentatively let her curiosity get the best of her.  
  
“What was her name? Wanna tell me about her?”  
  
Tim didn’t look her in the eye, preferring to keep his gaze pinpointed on the single oversized ice cube in his glass, but he nodded.  
  
“Her name was Janet. She um…” A tiny strange grin quirked the side of his mouth and he finally looked up at her through messy black bangs, “Remember that time when your mom invited me and Bart to dinner with you, and she complained for half an hour about ‘jet-set’ archaeologists who have all the money but half-assed dedication to historical findings? Who are all about the fun and polish?”  
  
“Um, yes?”  Oh gods. Helena Sandsmark’s favorite rant topic. She had hours of material on the unfairness of wealthy socialites’ interaction with the archaeology scene. Cassie always died of embarrassment any time someone she knew was exposed to even a fraction of it.  
  
“My mom was one of those.”  
  
Cassie slumped in her chair, beginning to feel her own ears turn red.  
  
“Oh gods, I’m sorry—”  
  
And Tim giggled. Giggled. It was… stupid but nice and he kind of sounded like he hadn’t taken in quite enough oxygen at first to do it properly.  
  
“Don’t be, Cass. Your mom didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. I wasn’t mad. It was… nice remembering her. She was spoiled, but in a classy kind of way. At least, that’s what my dad would say about it. But he might have been biased. Considering.”  
  
“Considering.” Cassie let a relieved giggle of her own slip.  
  
The silence that followed wasn’t a bad one. She eventually realized that Tim was faintly tapping on the edge of the bar to the tune of the music softly playing over he speakers, though she didn’t recognize the song.  
  
At some point in their conversation, he had let go of her hand, and she tried not to overthink her awareness of that. She also tried not to overthink the fact that she was mentally listing the different ways she might get him to put it back.  
  
She was startled from carefully not contemplating these things when his finger tips continued tapping, but this time against her own fingers lingering on the bar. She saw an expectant expression on his face, and it took her a moment to realize that the music had changed.  
  
Cassie’s eyes widened. Was that.. _Mmmm Bop_? It was. The one hit from that stupid band that every member of Young Justice has solemnly sworn to hate into eternity was dancing over the speakers.  
  
Some members, however, had been lying through their teeth when taking said oath.  
  
Cassie had been one of them. Apparently, so had Tim.  
  
Their moment of mutually tapping to forbidden tunes was interrupted as the old bar keep slammed a giant pink drink in front of Cassie’s nose.  
  
“From th’ gentleman.” The man muttered, tottering away.  
  
Cassie frowned. Tim seemed to be on the case, however, as he made a subtle pointing down the bar. She looked over her shoulder and saw the guy. He was tall and broad, with a lear and patch of scruff on his chin that reminded Cassie of Tim’s old Mr. Sarcastic disguise. Just… without the sarcasm. His target of choice hadn’t accepted the drink yet, and he was already elbowing his buddies and preparing to stand.  
  
“He looks like the pushy type to me,” Cassie muttered, “Mr. Detective?”  
  
Tim gave a small sigh, “I’m inclined to agree. How do you want to play this?”  
  
There were a lot of correct choices. Not the least of which was taking the drink and pretending it meant nothing. Making eye contact and firmly pushing the drink away was a fair call too. If Mr. Pushy pushed, well… It would hardly be any skin off her back to return the favor. But a hero was always supposed to avoid escalating the situation or provoking it. Such was the correct choice.  
  
_You’re going to be a mentor, Cassie._  
  
Meaning—she replied to the voice in her head— that if she was going to do something wild and on the side of crazy, it had to be tonight. So, she grabbed Tim’s hand and whispered in his ear.  
  
“Pretend to be my boyfriend.”  
  
His eyes went comically wide for a fraction of a second, but the next instant, he was giving her a succinct nod of the head.  
  
She felt his fingertips slide up to her jaw, pinpricks of cold from the condensation of his drink. She barely registered the procession from one moment to the next as his lips were suddenly touching hers.  
  
Barely touching. Very lightly.  
  
But staying. Not a peck.  
  
Rather, a quick brush followed by a very slow second brush.    
  
Her eyes slipped closed, acknowledging that the feeling was nice, if unexpected.  
  
She held still everywhere save her mouth, mimicking his movement until she could breathe in the honey-tang from his breath instead of her own.  
  
She then set her icy fingernails against his cheek, as was only fair.  
  
He gave a quick inhale that let her know she had startled him back.  
  
“Two for flinching.” She chuckled against his mouth.  
  
In an instant, she wanted desperately to see his expression, but he ducked his head to whisper in her ear again.  
  
“Why go back to competing when we’ve gotten so good at teaming up?”  
  
Tim thought he was so clever sometimes. She wanted to agree and roll her eyes at the same time. She was about to reply when something in the shift of his shoulders told her they had trouble.  
  
“What is it?”  
  
“Pushy Type has strolled out with his friends, but they went around the alley area of the building without grabbing a ride and none of them had car keys.”  
  
Cassie hissed, “They wanna jump us? Are you serious? This neighborhood sucks.”  
  
Tim pulled back far enough that could see his face. There was some uncertainty there that he was doing his utmost to hide, but Cassie was too familiar with it to be fooled by it anymore.  
  
_Goddess. He liked it. He liked it as much as I did._  
  
_And now he’s wondering if he messed up._  
  
“Tim—“  
  
“I know the corner they’ve picked. No cameras, no witnesses. They’d be… very surprised to not have the advantage. We could change into uniform in the restrooms and sneak out the back of the kitchen. It’ll be fun.”  
  
And… he was off. He even left the barstool he’d been sitting on spinning.  
  
Fine.  
  
Stupid bat-birds and their emotional issues.  
  
She’d let him get away with it for now.  
  
——  
  
Two hours later, they stumbled into Tim’s apartment dripping wet, with an unanticipated number of cuts and bruises.  
  
“ _Fun_ , you said. _We intimidate them and they’ll re-think their life-choices_ , you said.” Cassie scoffed.  
  
Tim clutched his bruised rib, “I didn’t know C-listers were developing their own knock-off venom pills these days. It’s a recent development.”  
  
His other arm was over her shoulder, keeping weight off his bruised ankle. If knock-off venom could punch her right into him, she didn’t want to think about what the original Bane could probably do.  
  
But it probably didn’t help that they were both a little tipsy. While Tim might not have guessed that Mr. Pushy—who had wanted to be called The Dejector, of all things, yeesh—would be carrying supervillain steroids, they both would have resolved the fight a lot faster if they had both been sober and had their minds off… well.. The Thing they were avoiding talking about.  
  
After they had the perps bagged and tied for the Gotham PD, Tim had decided to play it safe and not drive his motorcycle back. Cassie had similarly decided against flying.  
  
So they had walked.  
  
And then it rained.  
  
Because Gotham.  
  
Cassie carefully set Tim down on his couch. She then followed his directions to find the first aid kit as he began to check himself for damage.  
  
“Just so we’re clear: I’m not actually mad, Tim. Just grumpy. I had plans for tonight. They didn’t involve this many scrapes.”  
  
“I… Oh.” He froze, “I didn’t know I was keeping you. Sorry.”  
  
“You’re not,” Cassie corrected, setting the kit down by his foot and she cinched up the leg of his jeans. (The nice thing about his crazy expensive wardrobe: there was some extra stretch to the denim.) “You were at the center of the plans.”  
  
“Oh.” He tensed again, and Cassie worried for a moment that she had hurt him just by applying ice. But as she looked up, she realized his ears were red again.  
  
_Okay, Wonder Girl. Time to be brave._  
  
“Confession time. So… you already know I love you. We got that out of the way. The big secret is that I also might… kinda like you on top of that.”  
  
Tim snorted, but it was with a tiny hopeful smile on his face that quickly smoothed itself out to boarder-line sly.  
  
“Oh really?”  
  
If he was gonna be that way about it, there was no need to be delicate with the application of the ice. He flinched for real.  
  
“Yeah,” Cassie muttered, meeting his eye, “Funny how that works.”  
  
“Funny how it’s mutual.” He panted.  
  
Cassie blinked. “Does this mean we…?”  
  
“If you want.” Tim whispered.  
  
She kissed him.  
  
Sweat, rainwater, scrapes and all. She had wrapped her arms around his neck, and even when she bumped his foot and his leg tensed, he still clutched back.  
  
It was hard to tell who’s idea it was to lean back into the couch. Definitely her idea to start lifting his shirt off. His hair was just long enough that damp tendrils lingered where his neck met his shoulders and she didn’t resist the temptation to run her hands through it. He rolled into the movement like a cat with his eyes closed, and something like déjà vu struck her for the second time that day.  
  
For all that Tim’s everyday body language exuded a polite distance, actually touching him was so very different. Kind of like a sunflower desperate for a hint of light. As if no one had held him for years. Maybe no one had.  
  
Rain still clung to her own hair as well, water droplets shaking loose from assorted strands of her blond hair. They splashed onto Tim’s chest, making him shiver.  
  
She knew he could resist the cold, if he wanted. He could use a simple stretch of his own self control to curb his reactions, but he chose not to. Chose to let her see it, and the thought lit something warm in her chest.  
  
She leaned in close again, feeling her own shirt slide up, enjoying the contrast of warmth where their stomaches touched and cold where their hair got in the way. Tim was the one doing the kissing then, returning to that slow brush he seemed to have perfected, only against her neck instead of her lips. His arms held tight, tighter. And she gladly returned the favor until—  
  
“OUCH!”  
  
His whole body tensed, but Cassie knew it was the foot.  
  
_The Achilles Heel, as mom would say._  
  
“Guess it would be more fun to save the rest for when we’re both in one piece, huh?”  
  
Tim sighed, “‘Rest’ implies a finite amount. Was going more for an indefinite sort of plan.”  
  
Cassie grinned.  
  
“I’ll remember that. Now where are your towels, Young Man Wonder?”  
  
He scowled at her, but he gave up the location of the towels. And the location of his popcorn machine. And blankets. And spare pyjamas. And dvd collection.  
  
_I could get very used to this._  
  
She was cuddled in his arms on the couch again, but this time calm and dry with antibiotics gently applied to her minor scratches.  
  
“It’s different this time, you know. I can feel it.” She whispered.  
  
Tim stirred beneath her, though he took a moment to speak.  
  
“You mean… us?”  
  
She nodded against his chest, “Us. The vibe of it. The… the kissing. It’s different. We’re different.”  
  
She didn’t have the energy to lift her head, but she felt him nod all the same.  
  
“Last time, we were in a bad place. Now we’re in a good one.”  
  
She smiled against him and trusted that he could feel it, “Even if you have to face down the Damian squad on Monday?”  
  
“It won’t be Damian’s squad. Not immediately, anyway. But yes. Even then. We can do this. Together.”  
  
Cassie threaded her fingers through Tim’s as her eyes fluttered shut for the night.  
  
She believed him.  
  
_F.I.N._


End file.
